


Worse Than Zombies

by Wildcard



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Art, Fanart, M/M, Zombie, Zombies, Zombiestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:12:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildcard/pseuds/Wildcard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people find time to stalk the object of their obsession even in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Caliborn's one of them. Dirk doesn't even have time to mourn before he's on his knees for Caliborn and buying the safety of the girls with the only currency Caliborn's interested in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worse Than Zombies

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this zombiestuck Caliborn/Dirk](http://my-friend-the-frog.tumblr.com/post/47851047065/now-kneel-and-suck-my-dick-you-slut-or-i-will-just)! Yessmccormick drew [a beautiful piece of fanart for this fic](http://yessmccormick.tumblr.com/post/48168504158/his-hand-falls-out-of-your-hair-and-his-hips-slow) which is the point at which I decided to post it properly instead of just letting it languish on my tumblr.

It’s the middle of the fucking zombie apocolypse and this psycho thinks now is a good time to obsess over getting laid? Over the fact that you chose English over him? You’d snark at him that every word he says reinforces your conviction that Jake was the right choice, that even now, you’d chose the zombies over him - but he’s got Roxy and Jane locked in the other room. It’s a zombieproofed safehouse, you’ll give him that, you won’t need to worry about a crawler grabbing you by the ankle while he’s got your attention, but fuck if you wouldn’t rather take your chances with the zombies than him.

At least zombies don’t think. At least they don’t first offer their help and then, when you reject them, spend months staking out the city, stalking you, until Jake’s dead and you’re all vulnerable, shaken with grief and loss and down the member that was the best shot. At least when zombies want your body, it’s as food.

“NOT SO BRAVE NOW. ARE YOU?”

You can’t see his face behind that stupid mask he’s wearing but you know he’s grinning when he presses the tip of the knife against your throat and cuts just a little. You can’t afford to get more wounds. Every opening in your body is a possible avenue of infection.

When you kneel, you tell yourself that it’s to protect Jane and Roxy, that it’s what Jake would have wanted you to do. When you kneel, he laughs and you think about how zombies bite through skulls and that you must surely have enough strength to bite his dick clean off.

The scrape of his zipper being undone is eerily loud in the room. You reflexively start to turn, to check that nothing’s been woken - he grabs you by the hair and hauls your face forwards, forces it into the blood-stiff material of his crotch. You close your eyes and keep your mouth closed, hoping the dried zombie blood that makes his trousers feel like canvas isn’t enough to turn you. 

You need to survive this and free the girls. You need to survive this and kill him.

“GET ON WITH IT.”

Hah. Yeah. Right. What does he think you’re going to do, fish his dick out with your mouth? He’s been watching too much porn. Fuck, he probably would waste precious electricity on something like that. He wasted precious bullets and time getting himself into a position where he could get the drop on the three of you, after all. If he’d do this for a live show, what’s a little wasted power for some skin flicks?

All the sardonic quips in the world won’t save you from what he wants but you make them anyway. The familiar is comforting, all the more so in this strange world.

“DON’T TELL ME YOU NEVER FUCKING DID THIS WITH THAT PRECIOUS BOYFRIEND OF YOURS.”

You swear he has some sort of megaphone built into the sharp-toothed mouth of the mask. How else is he projecting like that? Maybe he was an opera singer before. There’s a thought. He seems like the type that’d like the stage, that’d want to be the focus of attention. You can’t see him as a hero but a villain, sure. Disney always give the villains the best songs.

When his fingers squeeze at your jaw, right where it meets your throat, you can feel the bones start to shift and grind. A little harder and your jaw will just dislocate.

It’s going to be hard to give the others orders if you can’t even talk.

You tilt your head back and open your eyes and mouth both, getting away from the dangerously contaminated material.

“There’s too much fucking blood on your trousers. Unless you want me to turn and bite your dick off, get it out yourself.” You spit the words bitterly and stare at the mask instead of his hand as he fumbles at his crotch.

The rope rubs your wrists raw as you shift back subtlety; water is for drinking, not for bathing in and though he might be wasteful, even Caliborn reeks as if he hasn’t showered in days. He probably hasn’t. Neither have you but you grow used to the stink of your own skin. The sour reek of dried sweat and diseased blood that comes off Caliborn is new and disgusting.

You gag even before he forces your head forward. The tip of his half-hard cock, swelling rapidly, brushes against your lip. You think of Jane, think of Roxy, and lick with the utmost reluctance, lapping from the base to the head. Jake never tasted this foul. You had precious little time for sex when on the run with zombies, precious little energy to expend on something as useless and tiring as orgasms. The languid post-coital haze was liable to get you killed.

You made do with handjobs instead, quickly and guiltily jacking each other off in the corner while Roxy or Jane kept swatch and whoever else was sleeping pretended not to know what you were doing. Rubbed off against each other, grinding and sighing, refusing to moan because zombies moaned and you were still alive. Sex was proof of that. 

Was. 

This is just proof that even after the zombie apocalypse, some humans are fucking psychos that need to be killed as much as the zombies do.

But this isn’t sex. It’s just this asshole proving his supposed dominance. His superiority. 

“IF YOU’RE AS INCOMPETENT A LEADER. AS YOU ARE AT GIVING HEAD. NO FUCKING WONDER YOUR LITTLE BOYFRIEND DIED.”

It’s a good thing you’re only licking. If he’d had his dick in your mouth when he said that, you would’ve bitten him out of sheer spite and hoped to have him bleed to death before he could cut your throat. You snarl and he yanks your head up, pulling at your hair so hard you feel it tear out of your scalp.

“FUCKING DO IT RIGHT. STRIDER. I’VE GOT TWO SUBSTITUTES JUST DYING TO TAKE YOUR PLACE.”

You stop dreaming about Jake and seal your lips tightly around Caliborn’s cock.

Jake’s dead. Your duty is to the living.

You suck. You suck until he’s fully hard, until he’s holding you still by the hair and snapping his hips forwards so hard that you choke when he hits the back of your throat, then pulls out only to do it again. He’s as relentless as a machine, laughing down as you choke on every merciless thrust. You aren’t crying; the sheer force of it makes your eyes water and knocks your head back so that tears spill out of the corners but you aren’t crying.

You just keep your mouth open and let him fuck it as your fingers scrabble uselessly over the knotted rope that binds your wrists behind your back. It makes you feel better to pretend you can escape while he’s distracted; it makes you feel better to pretend you have any power at all right now.

The knife at your throat saws back and forth with every vicious jerk of his hips, like he wants to make you choke. Suffocate you, kill you with his cock. That’d probably amuse him.

You’d live even if Jane and Roxy weren’t there. You’d live just to spite him. 

His hand falls out of your hair and his hips slow for a moment. You let your gaze focus on his face as he knocks his mask up roughly with one hand, [showing a face that’d look human](http://yessmccormick.tumblr.com/post/48168504158/his-hand-falls-out-of-your-hair-and-his-hips-slow) if the monster inside him didn’t shine through.

Red eyes, red lips, red cheeks flushed fever-bright with exertion.

He grins down at you and you see he’s filed his teeth to points. What a useless vanity. Nobody would be stupid enough to bite a zombie and these days, everything is about zombies.

Except not because he’s still got energy to spare to make this about you and make this about Jake and his mad, mad grin warns you this isn’t over yet. Nowhere near it.

You snap your teeth at his hand uselessly when he brings it back down again. Your teeth click together in empty air and he shoves his hand back into your hair, gripping the sweaty, tangled locks tightly and pulling on them to make you tilt your head back again.

This time, when he jerks his hips forwards, he manages to force his way down your throat even as you choke and the muscles of your throat convulse desperately, pointlessly around him.

He moans. 

You don’t even have time to flinch before he’s coming down your throat in hot, slimy pulses, face screwed up as if he’s in more pain than you are. He hasn’t told you to swallow but you’re in no mood to take chances, not when the knife’s cut so deep and he’s fucked his way so deep into your mouth that you feel like a few layers of flesh are all that separates his own softening cock from the knife.

You swallow and after a few seconds of just staring down at your face with glazed bloody eyes, he lets go of your hair, kicking you in the stomach to make you fall on your back. It really is a miracle you don’t bite him or throw up on him but your stomach’s so empty that you can’t afford to waste even this.

He kneels besides you, thumbing at the wound he’s opened in your neck, then digs his thumb in so sharply that a high, strained sound leaves your mouth before you can slam your lips shut.

He laughs, then leans down and kisses not your mouth but the wound.

When he draws back, his lips are red with blood; he pulls the mask down as if that final kiss was all he needed.

“YOU’RE A GOOD FUCKING WHORE AFTER ALL. GUESS I MIGHT AS WELL KEEP YOU AROUND.”

And as long as he keeps you alive, he’ll keep the girls alive for leverage. And as long as you’re alive, you can escape. You can take this base, you can survive here, you can fight zombies and wait for rescue.

You tell yourself that even with Jake dead, there’s still hope.


End file.
